


going way too fast/for way too long

by brighteningstar



Series: bonding/bonded [2]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Omega/Omega
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-14 15:09:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13592697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brighteningstar/pseuds/brighteningstar
Summary: Andrew’s smile has shrunk, but it’s still there, turned sharper. Less teeth, more canine. It’s right there in the press releases that the Foxes have the highest number of omegas and alphas relative to betas of any NCAA team. Even journalists aren’t crass enough to go deeper than that, but Neil also knows an omega when he sees one.Andrew says, “You think you’re quite clever, don’t you?”





	1. Chapter 1

“Are you going to tell on us?” Andrew asks with a bottle of Coach Wymack’s booze in one hand, grinning the same grin he’d worn when he took a racquet to Neil the first time they met. Except it isn’t the same, it’s just a very good facsimile.

“No,” Neil says, “and not for the theft, either.”

He meets Andrew’s eyes as he says it. There’s a flicker there, quick enough Neil can’t identify what’s underneath it.

“Either?” Aaron asks from across the room, eyes narrowed. Neil’s sense of smell isn’t that great compared to some, but with both Minyards in the same place there’s a distinct difference between them. Aaron’s scent is muted, but Andrew’s is non-existent.

A beta wouldn’t notice that, but if anyone can notice the tell-tale signs of someone on blockers it’s Neil.

“I’m wondering why he’s off his medication,” Neil clarifies for the rest of the room, gesturing at Andrew.

“…what did he just say?” Nicky mutters after a moment in German.

Aaron hasn’t looked away from Neil – Neil can feel his attention like a weight – but he says in a bored voice, “You heard him.”

Andrew’s smile has shrunk, but it’s still there, turned sharper. Less teeth, more canine. It’s right there in the press releases that the Foxes have the highest number of omegas and alphas relative to betas of any NCAA team. Even journalists aren’t crass enough to go deeper than that, but Neil also knows an omega when he sees one.

Andrew says, “You think you’re quite clever, don’t you?”

“I think that you need to try harder,” Neil replies, “Better luck next time.”

He should know better than to challenge dangerous psychopaths, with his upbringing. He doesn’t realise the cost of his actions until he’s on his hands and knees on the floor of the Foxhole Court, unable to pick up his racquet again, Andrew in goal and utterly unmoved before him.

He thinks Andrew is going to leave. That’s when Andrew says, “You’re a little short.”

“What?”

“For a beta,” Andrew qualifies. He’s smiling. It’s always the same, less amused than it is a muscular response to whatever is going on with his brain chemistry.

Neil’s heart flip-flops. He gasps, “That’s pretty stereotypical of you.” Sure, alphas tend to be tall and omegas small, with betas somewhere in the middle, but that’s hardly a rule. Renee is only five-five, and Matt is six-four. The Foxes are made up of exceptions, but that’s not part of it.

“Do you think you’re the only one who can tell the difference between a beta and an omega on blockers?” Andrew asks.

Neil automatically looks over his shoulder to the court door, but it’s closed and the others are nowhere in sight. That’s not much of a relief.

When he looks back, Andrew is still smiling, perfectly relaxed. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell them. As long as you can give me a good reason for why you take them.”

Neil has dozens of good reasons, starting with the inconvenience of heats during life on the run and ending with the mob of criminals hunting for the _omega_ son of Nathan Wesninski. However, he can’t tell Andrew any of them.

He says, “Probably the same reason as you.”

Andrew laughs. “You’re an alpha-killer too?”

“You haven’t killed anyone.” Speaking of stereotypes – hearing that come out of another omega’s mouth, even Andrew Minyard’s, is a jolt. It’s an old wives’ tale, omegas that hurt alphas instead of seeking them out during heat.

“Not quite,” Andrew agrees. “And I doubt you have the stomach for it. Better start thinking of a better excuse than that, Neil Josten. Otherwise you may as well stop taking them now.”

“You wouldn’t,” Neil says.

“Not if you give me a good reason,” Andrew repeats. “Oh, Neil, don’t give me that look. Were you expecting some kind of solidarity?”

“We’re nothing alike,” Neil spits. He wishes that he wasn’t still kneeling on the floor, but it’s better than trying to get up and falling.

Andrew points at him with one hand, slinging his racquet across his shoulders with the other. “You get it. Not as dumb as you look, then. Better put it to use – you have two weeks before I tell Abby you’re abusing your body with blackmarket blockers.”

“You don’t know anything,” Neil snarls. It’s the most omega he’s sounded in – years, probably. It’s also not even true. Andrew has him dead to rights.

“Two weeks,” Andrew says, and knocks Neil over on the way off the court just out of spite.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter warning for a similar scene to the eden's twilight scene in canon. hit up the end notes for a better description.

It’s easy to think that Neil should know better than to go anywhere with Andrew and the others. However, he doesn’t exactly have a choice. His two weeks are nearly up, and Abby already knows enough about him after seeing him shirtless.

Eden’s Twilight is all UV and strobes and music loud enough to deafen. It’s strange to see the twins and Nicky look so perfectly at home somewhere when they even seem a little out of place at Palmetto. Kevin, meanwhile, looks anything but.

The bartender takes one look at them and crows a greeting. He’s slight and obtrusively an omega – Neil suspects scent enhancers.

“Roland!” Nicky says, giving Roland a complicated handshake over the bar. “This is Neil, our rookie.”

Roland looks at Neil, then looks at him again more carefully, top to toe. Then he smiles. “Hi Neil.”

Neil doesn’t return the smile. “Hello.”

Roland’s smile ratchets down a notch. “What can I get you, newbie? On the house.”

“Soda,” Neil says. “Please.”

His tone is chilly. That’s probably why, when they’re all situated at a table covered in drinks, Nicky says, “You don’t like omegas?”

It’s hardly the first time Nicky has asked him about his sexuality, except this question has a note of ‘in general’ rather than just ‘sexually’ tacked on the end. Aaron is looking at him, lazily intent. Andrew is smiling, sobriety aside, just a quirk of one side of his mouth.

“I don’t like flirts,” Neil replies.

“Yikes,” Nicky muses. “I feel terrible for anyone who tries to pick you up, then.”

“That won’t happen,” Neil says.

“We’re in a nightclub.” As though Neil hasn’t noticed. “Also, you’re hot.”

“Nicky,” Andrew says, a gentle warning which really only sounds gentle.

“I’m just saying!” Nicky protests, before doing an immediate about-face back to smiling. He really is the most mild-mannered alpha Neil has ever met. “We need to make a toast!”

“To what?” Kevin grumbles. He’s been ignoring their conversation by the looks, his expression sulky. That, or he’s the only one at the table who doesn’t care about Neil’s sexuality or potential hatred of omegas.

Nicky cocks his head. “Getting really drunk?”

Aaron rolls his eyes, but raises his glass. Neil is the last to raise his, but he does, and he takes a drink with them. The soda bubbles bright in his mouth, over-sweet. It’s kind of disgusting.

Andrew pulls out the sachets he picked up from the diner, distributing them amongst the others. He turns to Neil last, flipping one between his fingers. “Care to join us, if you won’t drink?”

“They’re just crackers,” Nicky explains earnestly. “Short buzz – fun for partying.”

“No,” Neil tells them both.

“Is that judgement I see?” Andrew says. “Ironic, really.”

It’s ironic because a packet of that would do far less harm than what Neil could have potentially ended up swallowing while taking black market blockers. He says, “It’s not judgement. Do what you want.”

“Thanks for your permission,” Andrew replies, tearing the sachet opening and upending it into his next drink.

The four of them drink unbelievably quickly. Neil’s soda seems to be making him more thirsty rather than less, but even so they’ve gone through a couple of rounds before he finishes his glass. The inside of the club is hot with bodies, and he twitches the collar of his new Andrew-approved shirt to get air against his skin without flashing any scars. It doesn’t help.

His discomfort doesn’t seem to go unnoticed. When he shoves his stool back and says, “I’m going to get some air,” Andrew is already watching him.

Neil’s feet impact the floor with a ridiculous crash of sensation. The floor yaws. Andrew, omega-quick, grabs him by the arm and drags him back against the table so hard he falls onto it. A glass smashes.

“I don’t think so,” Andrew says, low and amused nearly against the back of Neil’s neck.

Nicky, at a distance, squawks, “You didn’t say he’s an omega!”

“Didn’t I? Whoops,” Andrew says, over Aaron’s, “He shouldn’t have had to, idiot.”

“Let go of me,” Neil demands. His voice comes out a growl.

“No,” Andrew replies. “Nicky, come here.”

“I think that’s a terrible id-”

“Do it,” Andrew replies, and then shoves Neil into his grip when he does. “You know what to do.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” Neil snarls. He’s burning everywhere Nicky is touching him. “What did you do to me?”

“You think they don’t make blockers for blockers?” Andrew asks. “Not that that’s what this is. It’s a little drug called Ignite. You like it?”

“I’m going to-”

“Ah, ah,” Andrew stops him like he’s a badly-behaved child. “Death threats when you don’t follow through are boring. Don’t worry, it’s not a real heat. It just feels like it.”

So Neil is an omega without allies in a nightclub full of strangers, with an alpha touching him. It’s stupidity, beyond that, and he doesn’t know what Andrew thinks he’s going to get out of this.

“Nicky, go,” Andrew commands, like the puppeteer he is.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Nicky asks, clearly having the same thoughts as Neil.

“I think it’ll be interesting,” Andrew replies, a guaranteed ‘no’. “You’re always talking about how good you are at being convincing. Go on.”

Nicky goes, and he drags Neil with him. They pause at the edge of the dancefloor, which is where Neil desperately doesn’t want to go like this, with an alpha and the tendrils of pseudo-heat creeping through him.

Omegas tend to react one of two ways in heat – fuck, or fight. Neil hasn’t been attracted to an alpha since he was thirteen, just before he started on blockers, and right now the last thing on his mind is sex. On the other hand, fighting has never worked out that well for him, either. Andrew was right about one thing: Neil is all threat and no follow through, at least physically.

Nicky has Neil all up against him, and he kisses him open-mouthed, pheromone-seeking. When he pulls back his pupils are engulfed in black and he smells of alpha want.

“I won’t hurt you,” he says, like his touch alone isn’t hurting Neil right now. He sounds earnest. Maybe he means it. Maybe he doesn’t, and all of Andrew’s threats to him over Neil were artifice to make this moment worse. “I wouldn’t.”

“No,” Neil says. “You won’t.”

 

* * *

 

Neil’s mother was an omega, too.

She couldn’t tolerate the blockers at her age, but she’d had her own ways of getting around that. An omega with a beta son was far less distinctive than a pair of omegas, and Mary Hatford had a way of getting them out of trouble with a turn of her voice and a look.

She was beautiful, but it wasn’t that. She knew how to play people, particularly alphas. Neil has never really had a reason to use those skills, but it’s not like he didn’t watch and learn.

He drops his weight against Nicky, pressing them chest-to-chest. Without breaking Nicky’s gaze he says, “We should get out of here.”

It’s not the words. It’s the tone – warm honey, a caricature of his normal voice. It sounds fake to his own ears, but Nicky nods along willingly.

“Yeah,” he agrees absently, then frowns a little. “What?”

“We should leave,” Neil repeats. He says it right into Nicky’s ear, letting his breath play over Nicky’s neck. Makes sure Nicky gets a full sniff of omega-in-heat. “Come on.”

He doesn’t look for the others on his way out, sticking to the press of people while feeling grateful for the labyrinthine setup of the club and cursing Nicky’s height. Nicky’s hands settle firm on his hips like brands, but Neil allows it. He’s too busy hoping like hell that he doesn’t run into the other three on his way out.

It’s not that the shit Andrew put in his drink isn’t affecting him. He’s burning hot and uncomfortably aware of being hard in his pants and slick between his thighs. It’s that _Nicky_ isn’t affecting him.

They burst out the doors. The cold air is a slap to Neil’s face, forcing a little of the heat out of him. Someone wolf-whistles. Neil charitably doesn’t put them on facedown on the pavement, though that’s mostly because he’s preoccupied.

“Where’s the car?” he asks Nicky, pulling his arm across his own shoulders. Nicky hums happily.

“This way,” he says cheerfully, leading Neil through an alley way to one side of the club. It opens onto a parking lot, and Neil sees the sleek black shape of their car in a spot.

That’s when he hears someone say, “Nicky!”

Nicky pulls to a halt, dragging Neil with him as his head whips in the direction of the voice. He snarls, that stupid possessive alpha temper taking over for a second. Apparently mild Nicky does have some of it in him after all.

Neil doesn’t need to look to know who it is. He shoves his hand into Nicky’s pocket, closes his fist around metal, and _runs._

He’s an omega, and he’s built for speed. No matter how fast Andrew is at stopping Neil’s goals, no matter how quick he is with a knife, he could never beat Neil in a sprint. And he doesn’t this time, despite Neil’s distinct disadvantage.

The lights flash on the car as he clicks the remote on Nicky’s car keys, and he wrenches the back door open to throw himself into the backseat. His weight slams the door behind himself, and the locks clack closed.

Andrew is going so fast when he reaches the car that he nearly doesn’t stop in time. The smile is well and truly gone now.

Neil, sweat-soaked and with his heart going triple-time in his chest, clutches the keys to his chest and bares his teeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene is similar to what happens in canon when Andrew first takes Neil to Eden's Twilight, except this time Andrew and Roland give him a drug that throws him into a pseudo-heat, expecting him to be overcome by that and an alpha (Nicky), and so more amenable to answering Andrew's questions. Nicky kisses Neil once and touches him non-sexually, but there's nothing heavier than that. Neil escapes the situation by using his noggin, no concussion required.


	3. Chapter 3

There’s a long, long moment where they just stare at each other. Neil doesn’t doubt Andrew’s commitment to his cause, but he doubts the other omega will go through his own car window to get to him.

Neil considers climbing into the front seat and leaving – he could always run Andrew over if he tried to stop him – but he’s not stupid enough to think he’s in a fit state to drive. Instead he sits up and leans against the seat behind him, closing his eyes for a second.

“Fuck!” That’s Nicky, having just appeared at Andrew’s side, voice a little muted from inside the car. He pulls at the door handle of the driver’s seat.

Neil can’t explain the feeling that comes over him on a conscious level, but he’s halfway across the car like he’s the one who will go through the window to get at Nicky. Nicky retreats so fast he nearly falls on his ass.

“Fuck,” he gasps, “Andrew, I’m-”

“Shut up,” Andrew tells him, bored. He hasn’t looked away from Neil yet, arms crossed and seemingly contemplative. Neil breathes out and sits back again, face relaxing. He feels wildly, frighteningly out of control by comparison.

“I swear to god he did something-”

“You think with your cock,” Andrew replies. “I said shut up.”

Nicky shuts up. Andrew hums and then says, “Watch him.”

“Watch him do what? Jerk off?” Nicky asks.

Andrew finally looks at him instead of Neil. Whatever Nicky sees in his face must be killer, because he shrinks, folding in on himself.

“If you have to,” Andrew replies. “Call me if he does anything besides that.”

“Okay,” Nicky says, cowed.

“And Nicky? Get a hold of yourself.”

With that, he leaves. Neil is torn between the idea of jerking off – because even he can only ignore a physical urge for so long, and the idea of the others having to get back into a car that reeks of him is vaguely satisfying – and repulsion at the thought.

Nicky mutters something, and then turns around and parks his ass on the hood of the car, giving Neil a semblance of privacy. Insulated from his scent, Neil feels a touch more relaxed, but the tension of having an alpha right there is a niggle he can’t properly ignore.

He doesn’t try to talk to Neil. That’s lucky, because Neil climbing out of the car to try and kill him would make this a waste. Neil pushes his presence to the back of his mind as best he can, flopping down across the back seat. His boots leave scrapes across the interior on the inside of the door. It’s satisfying.

This might ostensibly be the cousins’ shared car, and Nicky might be the one driving it, but it smells like Andrew’s in reality. The scent is ingrained deep in the upholstery – Neil thought it was Aaron, as first, but it’s not right for him. They’d been halfway to Columbia before Neil clicked that it probably pre-dates Andrew’s blockers.

Right now, Neil’s individual scent is covering all of that, and Andrew is going to need to buy shares in Febreeze to get rid of it.

It had occurred to him in the first feverish seconds of Andrew naming the drug he dosed Neil with that having a full heat would mean he would have to live through this for at least forty-eight hours. However, it’s only been a half-hour when, sweat-soaked and aching, he feels the symptoms start to abate.

For him heat has always discomfort more than anything else – cramps, pain and a distant need to come that never usually eventuates into anything more than that. Maybe at thirteen he’d been more stereotypical, hungry for an alpha or whatever else, but, well – he hasn’t had at real heat since he was Alex and fifteen anyway, so it hardly seems to matter.

He pushes himself upright, waits for the inevitable head rush to fade, and then crawls between the front seats and into the drivers seat. He still has Nicky’s keys curled in his sweaty palm, so he pushes them into the ignition.

Nicky nearly falls off the hood when Neil starts the car. Clearly he’s been ignoring Neil hard enough that he hadn’t even registered him moving, which would be much more gratifying if not for the events earlier tonight.

As it is, Neil throws the car into reverse and accelerates gently out of the parking space in a way that dumps Nicky on his feet before doing a k-turn towards the exit. It’s nicer than he deserves. He doesn’t check the rearview on his way out of the lot.

 

* * *

 

The thing is, he’s limited in where he can go. He has enough emergency cash to get a night – what’s left of it, anyway – in a cheap motel, but the idea of being anywhere so full of the scents of strangers right now sets his teeth on edge. He could sleep in the car, but he knows better than anyone that that could attract attention he doesn’t want.

In the end, it’s not much of a choice – he joins the highway on the road back to Palmetto, following the half-remembered reverse of the route Nicky took out here.

Wymack is a beta. He can guess at all sorts of things about Neil, but he has no idea that Neil isn’t the beta he seems with his duller senses. Also, he should be asleep by now.

He pulls into the parking lot of Wymack’s apartment and parks towards the back of the lot. Wymack doesn’t seem to care much for the internal workings of his own team thus far, having turned Neil over to their tender loving care with barely a warning, but he might not look so kindly on grand theft auto.

It’s well after midnight when Neil gently twists his key in the lock and slips through the front door. He goes straight for his usual place on the couch, intent on ignoring the state of himself in favour of not waking Wymack up. His duffel bag is lying by the couch, a comforting shape under his palm. He’d worried about leaving it, but it’s not like Andrew can get into it while he’s stuck in Columbia.

He’s just about to lie down when the hall light flickers on, revealing the shape of someone standing in the doorway.

He can’t help it – the car ride alone did some work on relaxing him, but he’s on edge and only barely in familiar territory. He feels his upper lip curl up in a soundless snarl before he gets control of himself again.

An arm reaches through and turns the living room right on, turning Wymack from a silhouette into himself. His expression is inscrutable, his eyes piercing. Neil feels like he did after that first practice where he tried to break himself against Andrew, caught out and foolish.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Wymack says. His voice is deadpan. Neil doesn’t reply.

Wymack adjusts so he’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. He has a phone in one of his hands. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Neil replies, which is technically true.

“Nicky called a half hour ago.” Neil really didn’t want to hear that. He keeps his expression inscrutable. “You should have said you were going with them.”

“I’m not exactly used to having to report in,” Neil replies somewhat coolly.

Wymack eyeballs him. “I meant that I would have stopped them from taking you anywhere.”

It’s a nice thought. Neil says, “It was fine.”

“‘Fine’ doesn’t usually include stealing a car,” Wymack points out, somewhat truthfully. He steps closer, though not into Neil’s space, as he meets Neil’s eyes as though he’s looking for something in them. “What did he give you?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t make me get Abby over here to take blood samples off of you.”

“You can’t do that against my will.”

“Actually, the contract that you so helpfully signed means I can request urine or blood tests on you whenever I want to check you’re not doing drugs. I don’t need to, though.”

Neil purposely doesn’t react.

“I may be a beta, but I do have a working nose,” Wymack says, expression wrinkling. It doesn’t take a genius to guess what he’s referring to.

Neil should know better than to assume, and he should certainly know better than to assume anything about other people’s capabilities, beyond that they can and will kill him if they get a chance. He should have booked a motel room, after all. He should have stayed in the car in Wymack’s lot. He definitely shouldn’t have doubted exactly how strongly he reeks of heat.

There’s never any way out but through. “Maybe I just had sex with someone.”

It’s meant to be a throwaway comment, half-sarcastic because it’s not like he doesn’t know sex smells different from heat, but Wymack’s expression turns black quick as blinking. He says, “If one of them-”

“They couldn’t if they tried,” Neil cuts him off. It’s probably not a lie. And just like that Wymack is looking at him, piercing, and it’s impossibly horrible for Neil to feel his façade crumbling even partway.

The theory has never been tested, which is why it’s only probably true. On the other hand, Neil has never heard of another omega like him.

He’s not an alpha-killer. Probably. He just doesn’t want to fuck one. Or anyone else, for that matter. But pretending that he would tear out the throat of an alpha who looked at him wrong is useful in that it’s an excellent excuse for the blockers.

Wymack stares at him for a moment, and then says, “Take a shower and get some sleep. Tomorrow, once I’ve picked up the others, you’re going to Abby to discuss blockers. Somehow I doubt you have an actual prescription.”

Neil neither confirms nor denies that. Wymack holds his hand out, expectant, and Neil throws him Nicky’s keys.

“If any of them tries anything with you again, come to me,” he says, putting the keys in his pocket.

“I guess that means you aren’t going to call the cops on me,” Neil replies.

“Don’t tempt me,” Wymack says, though without much heat, and leaves.


End file.
